X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6)

by Alex Westmore

  Quinn could not disagree.

  Over the years Dragut had become darker, more violent, more of a terror on the seas than when she’d first seen him. She recalled a discussion she’d had with someone in the New World.

  The woman, her name Diana, had said, “This new world is going to be predicated on slavery and the rich.” Quinn couldn’t help but wonder if that was where Dragut was taking them: to the New World.

  But these people were Europeans, not Africans. Who would pay for a European slave?

  “Stop right there,” came a voice behind them in what sounded like a variance of Latin.

  They turned in unison.

  The man they faced was not a Turk. His coloring was far too fair and his light brown hair too light.

  Was he was Italian? Was that why he spoke in Tuscan and not Latin?

  “Yes?” Quinn asked, taking the lead. Her Latin was flawless and yet, she could hear her own voice quiver at the use of it.

  “It is unsafe for two such beautiful women to roam these streets,” the man said. He looked maybe fifty years old and dressed as many aristocrats did with a long coat, girlish undershirt, and ridiculous-looking shoes.

  “You are too kind,” Quinn said as demurely as possible. She could feel Sayyida tense and resisted the urge to reach for her hand. “We are on our way to pray at the Cathedral.” Quinn cast her eyes in the direction of the church.

  “It is not safe even there. Perhaps I can accompany you to safer grounds. The Turks, as you can well see, are destroying our fair city.”

  Which begged the question in Quinn’s mind, why was this foppishly dressed gentleman not afraid.

  “If you would be so kind as to escort us to the Cathedral, the Lord will see to our safety.”

  The man stepped closer. “The Lord has forsaken Vieste, dear lady. Please. I insist.”

  “And we insist that you desist,” Sayyida growled.

  The look on the main’s face instantly transformed from one of concern to irritation. “I beg your pardon, m’lady, but there is no reason to be—”

  Sayyida moved with such swiftness, his sentence, like his life, was cut short by her knife to his throat. “Grab him,” she ordered, slipping her hand under his armpit to keep him from falling to the ground.

  Quinn followed suit, the air leaving her as his dead weight settled on her shoulders. Blood poured from his wound to his chest.

  “Over there,” Sayyida jutted her chin out and they half-carried, half-dragged him to a short wall and dumped his body behind it.

  Quinn looked at the front of her skirt now covered in blood. “What is the matter with you?”

  Sayyida peered over the top of the wall. Five other men were quickly approaching, swords drawn. “He was not alone.” She tore off her skirt and pulled out her swords. “I’ll take the two on the left.”

  “You’re leaving me three then?” Quinn asked, ripping her skirt off as well.

  Let’s see how good you are with those throwing daggers first.”

  “You’re joking, right? You choose now to test me?”

  “Not a test, my love. It is quite imperative that you even the odds as best you can.”

  Pulling two from their sheaths, Quinn popped up, and threw one dagger after another.

  End over end they went.

  The man in the middle dodged the first dagger, but the second one landed right in the middle of his body.

  He stared down at it. Looked up, made a strange croaking sound before double over face first onto the ground.

  “Now it’s a fair fight.”

  Leaping up, they stood facing the four stunned Turks.

  “Come meet your deaths,” Sayyida said in Turkish.

  Whatever they replied back, Quinn did not understand. What she did understand was their intent to kill them even as they tried to recover from their surprise at facing two women who had already managed to kill one of them.

  “Spread them out,” Quinn said in Latin. “Make quick work of it.” Quinn dropped down and cut the legs out from the first man, who lost one leg to her blade before losing his life to the short sword she drove into his heart.

  The second Turk was bringing his sword down on Quinn’s head when she blocked it, shoved it, and yanked the short sword out and rammed it in his groin.

  He cried out like a girl, and when Quinn pulled her sword free, she followed it up with a long sword across his gut, spilling his steaming intestines onto the ground.

  Without hesitating, she turned to help Sayyida.

  She needed no help.

  Both her men were dead already.

  “Exciting, isn’t it?” Sayyida asked, bending over to grab one of the men by the ankles. “To fight side-by-side with a woman you want to fuck?”

  “Wait. Want to—”

  Sayyida laughed. “Admit it, Callaghan. We were good together. We could always—” Sayyida paused and slowly put her sword down.

  When Quinn glanced around her, she realized they were surrounded.

  By Dragut’s men.

  “Shit.”

  “Very,” Sayyida replied. “Put your sword away, Callaghan, or they will kill us. I will do everything I can to keep that from happening.”

  Slowly sheathing both swords, Quinn watched the exchange between one of the men and Sayyida.

  When they finished, Sayyida said to Quinn. “They are taking us to Dragut.”

  “Do they know you?”

  “They know of me. They believe you might be worth something. Do not be afraid, my love. I will get us out of this.”

  “Alive?”

  Sayyida smiled. “That would be the plan.”

  When they stood in front of Dragut, Quinn was surprised by how much he’d aged. His beard, once a dark brown, was half grey now and was not nearly as full as when she first saw him. He wore a white turban upon his head and red clothing that looked like a robe. In his linen belt was a Saracen sword with a hilt Quinn was certain cost him as much as her ship.

  He and Sayyida spoke in Turkish for quite some time before Dragut strode over to Quinn and looked her up and down, appraising her.

  “You served with The Scourge of the Sea T,” he said to her in Latin.

  Quinn cut her eyes over to Sayyida, who barely nodded. “Aye. Yes.”

  “Sayyida al Hurra tells me you have come in search of Sultan Suleiman’s granddaughters.”

  This surprised Quinn. That Sayyida would tell him the truth of their presence had never been discussed.

  “Yes.”

  Dragut ran his hand over his beard. “You are unlike Grace O’Malley who would be filling the air with her words. That woman can talk more than a room full of women.”

  Quinn did not reply.

  Dragut chuckled. “I see. You do know me.”

  “I do.”

  “Do you know I am Beylerbey of Tripoli and Admiral of the Mediterranean fleet?”

  “Yes. I have heard.”

  “Did you also hear Admiral Piyale Pasha chose not to seek my advice on how to handle the water around Malta and Italy, effectively treating me like a common sailor? Me! The Beylerbey treated like a common pirate! Bah!”

  Quinn glanced over at Sayyida, who gave no clue as to why he was telling her this.

  “My allegiance has and always will be to the Sultan, but I am no man’s second,” Dragut said, to no one on particular. “Until I can figure out what to do with you both, you will remain in this city’s charming dungeon.”

  Quinn waited for Sayyida to say something. When she didn’t, she asked, “And the Sultan’s granddaughters? Do you know where they might be? All we came for was to return them to the Sultan.”

  “Oh, we will find them and allow them to return with Sayyida al Hurra so he is made aware that it was I, and not Piyale, who rescued them. Perhaps then my Sultan will be reminded why he bestowed upon me such titles and power.” He turned from Quinn and spoke rapid Turkish to Sayyida, whose eyes never left his face as he spoke.

  When they finished he then nod
ded to his guards, who removed their sword belts and took them to the dungeon that sat beneath a small castle.

  When the men left, Quinn waited for Sayyida to explain.

  “I must apologize, my love. It would appear we walked into a power struggle the Sultan may be unaware of.”

  “Between the two admirals? Aye, it would appear that the Dragut I met years ago has become paranoid and suspicious.”

  She nodded. “I’m afraid so. The return of the Sultan’s granddaughters by Dragut would elevate him in the Sultan’s eyes. That could be good for us.”

  “And it could not be. What does he need us for if he finds them?”

  “I would wish we do not find that out.”

  Quinn nodded. “This odd power struggle does not explain why he is killing these people and taking the others as slaves.”

  “Does it not? Dragut desires to be more feared than the admiral. He believes word will spread and so will the fear. The slaves are just his way of lining his purse with gold while making a bloodier name for himself.”

  Quinn glanced at the tiny window wishing and hoping Tavish had, in fact, followed her and gone against her orders as he had always done. “And what of me, Sayyida? What are his plans for me if he sends you back to Istanbul with the granddaughters?”

  “That, I do not know.”

  Quinn turned from the window. “I think we both know his intentions. He will ransom me to Grace or some other pirate.”

  “Or Elizabeth. Or Phillip. He will not kill you if he believes keeping you hostage will grant him more coin.”

  Pacing across the tiny cell, Quinn felt her heart pounding in her chest. If she went to Elizabeth, she would be killed for sure. If he sent word to Grace, she would mount an ill-advised attack against one of the greatest naval forces on the water. “None of those things can be allowed to happen.”

  “Of that, I am aware. He has never forgiven Grace for taking his lover.”

  His lover was Quinn’s oldest friend, Shea, the person responsible for Quinn’s masquerading as a man to get onto Grace’s ship. “That was a long time ago Sayyida.”

  “Humiliation has no time limit, my love. It is an itch he will never be able to scratch. If he can use you to lure her in, he can finally regain the respect he lost when you took Shea from him.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “I know you won’t. Besides, it will take weeks, if not months to get a message to Grace. Who knows where she is.”

  Quinn stepped closer to her. “You have to get my ship and crew out of here. Have them patrol the area near Galway to keep ships away from Grace. She cannot be told that I am in danger.

  “Calm yourself, sweet one. You will not linger in here if I can help it, but be very clear, though Grace and I are friends, your safety is all I care about.” She held a hand up to stop Quinn from interrupting. “I understand your concern for your crew and Grace. I truly do. We will not keep them waiting long, but I can make no promises.”

  Quinn paced across the small chamber. She hated that she hadn’t sent the Edge to wait on the other side of Italy.

  Too late now.

  Dragut let them wait for three days before finally making an appearance in the dungeon.

  He spoke at length with Sayyida, who listened intently for almost five minutes. When she did respond, her voice as soft and deferring.

  When he turned to Quinn, he studied her a moment. A slow smile crept on his face. “Another female who prefers men’s clothes.”

  “If you tried wearing a dress, you’d understand.”

  Dragut looked over at Sayyida, who nodded. “It is true.”

  Returning his gaze to Quinn, he threw his head back and laughed. “They do appear very uncomfortable. Good for you. Both of you. Now, it would appear we have a problem.”

  “A problem?”

  “Well, yes. You see, we found the Sultan’s granddaughters. They are well, of course, and are most interested in returning home.”

  Quinn and Sayyida exchanged glances.

  “I’ll not leave here without Captain Callaghan,” Sayyida announced defiantly. “I have made my position on that quite clear.”

  Dragut did not take his eyes off Quinn. “Oh, I believe you must. Must and will. For you see, if I do not hear back from my men at court that the Sultan is singing my praises for securing the safety of his granddaughters, I will kill your little Irish pirate and send her head to you in a lined box.” Dragut continued to lock his gaze onto Quinn’s

  Sayyida started to reply when Quinn reached out to touch her arm, steadied her nerves, and then cleared her through. “You have no choice, Sayyida. You need to return his granddaughters as quickly as you can and return with…” Quinn turned to him. “What do you need to verify this praise?”

  “Not what. Who. I’ll send my man with Sayyida al Hurra. Upon their return here, he will inform me of what transpired. At that time, you both will either be set free or be killed.”

  “On one condition,” Quinn interjected.

  Dragut frowned. “You are in no position to bargain.”

  “Dragut Reis, I am here because I wish to sail your seas unmolested. I tire of European politics and wish to be left alone to plunder those who have or will destroy my country. I ask little of you.” Quinn bowed her head. “The sea is all my men and I have left.”

  Dragut stroked his beard. “Perhaps when Sayyida al Hurra returns we can continue this discussion. For now, say your goodbyes. Sayyida al Hurra will be leaving within the hour.”

  When Dragut was gone, Sayyida swept Quinn up in her arms. “I cannot leave you here, Callaghan. The man is unbalanced. I trust him not at all.”

  Quinn slowly backed out of her embrace. “I do not see that we have any choice. My ship and crew are awaiting my return at the port of Bari, just south of here. I ask that you meet with them and send them to Grace. Do not tell them I have been captured. Do not give them any reason to think they should come for me.”

  “Your men will only become more concerned should I return without you. I’ll not give them any message, my love, that would send that mad Scotsman whirling to Vieste. Besides, my first priority is to race to Istanbul as quickly as the wind will allow. I will return to you and take you from this accursed place. On that, you have my word.”

  “How long is it?”

  “With good tailwind, three days. Plan for four.”

  Quinn shrugged. “Then I only have to stay alive a week.” She forced a grin she did not feel.

  “A great many things can happen in a week.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Sayyida’s last words before she left were, “If I can think of something to get us out of this, I will.”

  Quinn did not doubt that. The look in Sayyida’s eyes was like it was when they first met. She clearly still had romantic feelings for Quinn, and felt a stab of guilt for having to leave her in the filthy cell.

  Not that it mattered.

  It did not.

  The only thing that mattered was getting out of this prison before—

  Suddenly, she heard female voices.

  Multiple voices.

  When the iron door swung open, Quinn was surprised to see two women at the door. They were not wearing the clothing of the Italians, but wore the kaftans many women from the east favored.

  Backing away from it, Quinn tilted her head in question. The guard merely shrugged before closing the door, leaving the three women alone.

  “I am told you speak Latin,” the older woman said.

  Quinn nodded. “I do. Quite well, actually.”

  The older of the two clapped. “Most excellent. I am Fatma, Dragut’s second wife. This is Ayse Humasah Sultan, Suleiman the Magnificent’s granddaughter.

  Quinn bowed at the waist. “Your Highness.”

  Ayse Humasah Sultan put her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle. She was much younger than Quinn expected her to be… possibly eighteen or nineteen at most. Regardless, of her age, she was quite beautiful. Her skin
was flawless and her face almost too small for her enormous brown eyes. She wore a brown dress that buttoned down to the waist, and shoes Quinn had only seen on those from the east. On her fingers were several rings containing blue stones and she wore the ear jewelry easterners were so fond of.

  “It is time then,” Ayse said in a voice that should have come from an older woman. Rich and deep like her eyes, her voice sounded like warm honey and cool whiskey. “You are like Sayyida al Hurra. I find that… fascinating.”

  Quinn shrugged. “I was never fond of the woman’s role in our culture. Too tight. Too uncomfortable. Too…rigid. A great deal like us.” She laughed.

  Ayse smiled and inched closer. “Fascinating. You wear the clothes of a pirate and yet you do not pretend to be a man.”

  “I did. I do not now.”

  Ayse spoke rapidly to Fatma, who bowed, then spoke to the guard.

  “Fatma thinks I am unsafe in here with you. Is that so?”

  Quinn shook her head, though her mind raced with the possibilities of how she could use this woman to get out. “You are quite safe with me. I am one of the two who came for you. You have nothing at all to fear from me.”

  “Good. Because if anything happened to me, Sayyida al Hurra and her entire family would be killed. We would not want that, now would we?”

  “No. No, we wouldn’t. You are quite safe with me. Your grandfather sent Sayyida for you and she came to me for help.”

  “How can you help from inside a cell?”

  Quinn inhaled deeply. “Well now, that wasn’t part of the plan. What can I do for you, Princess?”

  Ayse motioned for Fatma to continue on her way.

  When the door clinked closed, Ayse allowed her eyes to travel up and down Quinn’s body.

  Quinn had seen this look before. Like the look a fox would give a rabbit. “Surely you did not come to this prison to leer at me.”

  Ayse locked eyes with her. “Maybe I did.”

  Oh, she was good. Young, yes, but she was very crafty.

  Quinn would have to be careful with this one.

  “You have questions.”

  Ayse crossed her arms over her chest. “I do. I have heard there were…others… like her, but I did not believe it.”